


I Gave up on Shooting Stars

by Helholden



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke sees her mom's ship crash, and Bellamy takes her back to camp and comforts her. Post 1x09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Gave up on Shooting Stars

* * *

 

His hand was on her shoulder.

 

“Clarke . . . ”

 

Her eyes were watery. Her head had begun to pound dully somewhere deep within her skull. With her vision blurred, she looked up at the dark sky again. There was no more movement. There were only the still points of light diffused through her tears, shimmering dully above the mountain. _Stars_ , Clarke thought. Just stars. No ships.

 

Her mother’s ship had crashed, a shock of bright white light in an explosion seared with pink and violet. It had been coming too fast with no parachute release. There wouldn’t be anything left of it other than a pile of smashed rubble and a crater upon impact beneath it, the smoke and debris rising into the night sky, and everyone inside of it dead.

 

Clarke was the scientist. Always the scientist, but you didn’t survive something like that, and she knew.

 

That was why she was kneeling on the ground, her body wracked with quiet sobs.

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said more firmly, and his fingers pinched into her shoulder. “We need to get inside the camp. It’s nightfall.”

 

 _Always the pragmatist_ , Clarke thought numbly.

 

She managed to find the strength to stand, but her blurry vision caused a misstep on the ground of the forest floor. Bellamy caught her arm as her shoulder fell into his chest. He held her arm with a firm but gentle grip.

 

“Come on,” he said gruffly near her ear. “Let’s get you inside.”

 

She let him lead her inside of the camp past the wall. Bellamy let go of her briefly to shut the gate, and she felt like a lost child, swaying on her feet. Eventually, he took her arm again, and Clarke felt him lead her through the camp. If eyes were on her, she didn’t see them, but she felt them.

 

Bellamy brought her to her tent. A tent she shared with no one. She slept on her own, by herself, with only her own company at night. She heard Bellamy put his gun on the floor. Clarke stumbled to sit down on her makeshift bed, grasping his arm in the process of stumbling. Her grip on his arm steadied her like an anchor. Her vision was still blurry, though, and he was like a dark blotch at the corner of her eye.

 

“Clarke . . . ”

 

Her grip on his arm tightened, and she felt her jaw tighten, too, as a fresh wash of tears threatened to erupt. “ _Bellamy_ ,” she choked out, reaching out to him with her other arm. Bellamy laid his hand on hers, a light touch of his palm covering her hand. He moved to sit down beside her. She didn’t ask him to leave, so he didn’t seem intent on it.

 

He didn’t say anything else, though. Maybe he knew words were pointless. Clarke felt the tears pour from her eyes and slide down her cheeks. They were silent tears. There were no more sobs in her chest. She was still and calm by all appearances, except her heart was burning. All of the weight of the sky above them was crushing it, and her grip on his arm grew harder than before.

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, “if you grip my arm any harder, it might fall off.”

 

Clarke immediately released his arm. “I’m sorry,” she hurried told him, wiping her eyes with her now free hand. “I didn’t realize—”

 

Bellamy was quiet beside her, but he didn’t get up to leave. When she turned to look at him, he was staring ahead at the entrance of her tent. The flaps were closed, but they could see the shifting patterns of light from the torches against the shadows.

 

“If you want to leave,” Clarke added, “you can. I’ll be fine.”

 

Bellamy turned to look at her. He had a pensive look upon his face, which wasn’t his usual fair until lately. Clarke noticed that expression mostly when he was looking at her these days. She didn’t know what it meant, only that she inspired it in him. Suddenly, he shrugged his shoulders and looked out back towards the opening of her tent.

 

“Nah,” Bellamy said dismissively. “I can stay here.”

 

Clarke didn’t feel like arguing with him, so if he didn’t want to leave, he could stay. The only problem with that is she was overwhelmed with emotions, and not ten seconds from saying he could leave, she felt her hand reaching out for him again, her fingers gripping the sleeve of his jacket and tugging on the fabric as if to pull him closer to her.

 

She was sobbing for real this time, and she buried her face against the sleeve of his jacket. Her chest shook with each sob, and at first, Bellamy did nothing. He sat there very still until her other hand slid over his chest, her fingers curling around his neck to have something to hold. He was real and solid, and his presence gave her comfort just for sitting beside her.

 

Bellamy reached up to hold her arm with his hand. His grip was firm, and Clarke felt her grip on his jacket loosen. Her mom. Her mom was gone forever. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye to her. She hadn’t even gotten a final chance to say she loved her, and she certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her mother she forgave her.

 

“I know how you feel,” Bellamy finally said to her, his voice lower than usual. “I lost my mom, too.”

 

Clarke felt her tears subsiding, her chest calming down. Bellamy did know how she felt, Clarke realized. His mom had been floated because they found Octavia, an illegal second child their mom had hidden beneath the floorboards. Everyone knew the story. Everyone had heard it.

 

“What happened?” Clarke asked, thinking it might draw her attention away from her own pain right now.

 

“I took her to the dance,” Bellamy admitted. “They did a security check halfway through. They had never done that before, so I had no idea. I tried to get Octavia out of there, but we were stopped.” He was silent for a moment. “It was too late.”

 

Clarke felt her fingers curl up into a fist on his jacket sleeve. “I’m sorry,” she said.

 

Bellamy cleared his throat. “It’s in the past,” he told her.

 

Clarke wanted to pull away from his jacket and sit upright because she thought acting this way made her look weak, but she was comfortable where she was. She turned her head so that her cheek rested against his jacket. Both of them were silent, watching the shadows and torch lights play against the tent. Slowly but surely, Clarke felt her eyes flutter to a close. All of her crying had made her tired, sapping the energy straight out of her veins.

 

She felt Bellamy’s hand against her head, touching her messy hair to hold her head against his shoulder. He was still quiet, but oddly sweet. It wasn’t a trait Clarke prescribed to Bellamy. He wasn’t a sweet person by any stretch of the imagination that Clarke had seen, and yet that wasn’t completely true. He was capable of softness. She had seen him display it with Octavia, but Bellamy didn’t really have a reason to use it on anyone else.

 

Bellamy didn’t care for anyone else like he cared for Octavia.

 

Her eyes were dry, but her sadness wasn’t gone. It felt like a hole in the center of her chest, an empty hollow that couldn’t be filled because everything that entered it poured right back out again. Her heart was a bucket with a hole in the bottom, a bag with a rip in the side. Completely worthless for the purpose it was meant to serve.

 

“What do we do now?” Clarke asked him suddenly, feeling the practically come back to her.

 

Bellamy’s hand stilled against her hair. She hadn’t realized he had been stroking it. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well,” Clarke began, trying to find the words, “the dropship crashed. Everyone is dead. The Ark won’t feel safe to follow. We’re still alone down here. We don’t even know how many working ships or pods they have. We’re all alone—” Clarke’s voice broke as her eyes welled up with tears again.

 

Bellamy’s arm around her back tightened to pull her closer, his hand holding her head firmly. His other arm came around her to bring her into a comforting embrace. “Hey, we’ll be fine,” he told her. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? We’re strong. We’ll make it by. We’ll do what we have to do. You and me,” he added quietly. “We can do this.”

 

She clutched to him, feeling the heart of his words finally reach her. Nothing else he had said so far made a difference, but this time it did.

 

Clarke pulled away from his shoulder. She looked at him. _Really_ looked at him. Bellamy had turned his head to face her the moment she had lifted her head from his shoulder, a confused expression on his face. Clarke felt her expression soften, though.

 

“Together,” she said, reiterating what he had just said, only with different words.

 

Bellamy gazed at her. Then, he nodded. “Together,” he agreed.

 

Clarke put her arms around Bellamy’s neck, drawing him in for a hug. He was still at first, and then his arms went around her as well to return the hug. Her fingers curled into his hair, and she closed her eyes as she laid her head upon his shoulder again. She felt Bellamy’s hand against the back of her head again, lying upon her hair. In that moment she was comforted and she was safe. It felt like being in Bellamy’s arms sapped all of her negative energy away and calmed her nerves. He did things for her he didn’t even realize he was doing. He probably didn’t even realize he was capable of them.

 

“Bellamy,” she called out softly.

 

“Hmm,” he asked her, and she felt the rumble in his throat.

 

Clarke pulled back from him again to look him in the eyes. “Can you stay with me tonight?” she asked him, and she meant could he stay with her to keep holding her because it gave her comfort and because it calmed her. She meant could he stay and fall asleep beside her because Clarke didn’t want to fall asleep alone with the thoughts inside of her head and the hole inside of her heart, but Bellamy took her words completely different from what she meant.

 

He stared at her at first, his lips parted in surprise, and then he closed them and swallowed past a lump in his throat. Before she could say anything else, his hand was against her face, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair off her cheek, and then his lips were on hers. Clarke closed her eyes, but she was surprised at his reaction. Still, her initial reaction was to accept the kiss. She parted her lips and returned his gesture, and the slow slide of their lips became hectic and stronger as Bellamy took her face in both of his hands, leaning in closer to her and causing Clarke to lean back.

 

She fell back onto her makeshift bed, and Bellamy climbed on top of her. Their kissing had grown more heated, and their hands were wandering everywhere. When he broke away from her lips, he tore off his jacket and threw it aside. His mouth found the curve of her jaw and then her neck, Clarke thought she ought to say _Bellamy, I didn’t mean this_ , but she didn’t want him to stop now that he had started and she didn’t want to stop either.

 

Until she remembered she had done this once before, and it didn’t end well.

 

Clarke pushed gently at Bellamy’s shoulders. “Bellamy,” she said urgently. “Bellamy, please, stop—”

 

He froze above her, pulling back from her neck. His eyes were dark, but confused and full of questions. He didn’t look upset that a girl had asked him to stop kissing her, but some part of him seemed upset to stop all the same. Clarke didn’t have time to think about that look in his eyes, though. She had too many thoughts on her own mind.

 

“I don’t think we should,” Clarke began, breathing deeply to catch her breath, “do anything we might regret in the morning.”

 

Bellamy was still for a moment, and then his eyes darkened more. He pulled back from her, sitting up. “No, you’re right—” he said, but his eyes betrayed his words. Clarke saw him grabbing his jacket, and she stopped him by placing her hand upon his wrist as she sat up on her bed. Bellamy stilled, his eyes downcast and staring at nothing in particular.

 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said. “Please, Bellamy.” Her hand squeezed his wrist before she slid it up his arm, and Bellamy lowered his hands with his jacket to his lap. “I didn’t mean it that way,” Clarke told him, noticing the look of hurt on his face before he schooled it away. It had shocked her to see it, but it was there. Clarke knew the look of hurt and rejection when she saw it.

 

It shocked her to think Bellamy could even feel rejected, but there it was.

 

Slowly, she moved closer to him. Clarke let go of his arm to raise her hand to his face. She cupped the side of his cheek before turning his head to face her. Clarke looked Bellamy in the eyes, and he looked into hers. She felt like he understood her, like he knew her as no other. He got her in ways the others didn’t, and she, too, understood him in the same ways.

 

With her fingers on his chin, Clarke closed her eyes as she drew him in for another kiss. It was slower this time, a soft press of her lips to his. Bellamy returned the kiss with a gentle movement against her lips, but he didn’t push too much too soon like the first time. He was relaxed, cautious. Like her.

 

Clarke placed her hand against his cheek as she pulled back from his lips. She pressed her forehead to his, her nose to his as well.

 

“Please,” Clarke whispered. “Stay.”

 

She felt Bellamy’s temple flex as he swallowed again. “Okay,” he managed to say.

 

Clarke took him by the hand, pulling him gently towards her as she moved to lie down on her bed. It was a smaller bed made only for one person, but there was just enough room for two if they lay on their sides. Clarke lay with her back to the opening of the tent, and Bellamy was pressed against her back. With his hand still in her grip, Clarke rested his arm over her side and closed her eyes.

 

She felt Bellamy’s breath against her neck. His free hand above their heads pulled her hair away from her ear, and Clarke felt a shiver pass through her spine as he kissed her earlobe.

 

“Goodnight, princess,” Bellamy told her, and Clarke held his hand a little tighter than she meant to.

 

“Goodnight,” she whispered back.

 

He threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her closer to him upon the bed. Clarke had given up on the sky, and she had given up on shooting stars, but she hadn’t given up on kind gestures, warm hugs, or the soft beat of Bellamy’s heart against her back or the heat of his breath against her neck. They emptied her head, lulling her to sleep.

 

He stayed with her through the night like he promised, and when the morning light broke over the camp the next day, Clarke awoke to Bellamy’s hand intertwined with hers and his breath still warm against her neck and the steady beat of his heart still there to comfort her.

 

Slowly, Clarke found herself smiling.

 

 


End file.
